


rebuilding

by amuk



Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Family, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Kinda, Missing Scene, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-26 19:33:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20394991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amuk/pseuds/amuk
Summary: If it weren’t for the fact that he got mobbed by every female in sight, Wrex could come to appreciate the joys of fatherhood. Or at least, want it.





	rebuilding

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Beyond the Citadel zine! Ahaha, I love Wrex to pieces. Actually, all of the Krogan are just fun.

“I thought I told you I hate coming here,” Wrex grumbled, sliding into his customary seat across from Eve’s. While Tuchanka was rebuilding, creating new trading partners and relearning craftwork, her humble abode was not much better than the harsh wasteland they lived in. Broken sofas and abandoned furniture were the best she could offer. When she didn’t respond to his complaint, Wrex stressed, “_Hate_ _it_.”

“Many Krogan would kill to be in your place,” Eve answered evenly, ignoring his childish pout. She rolled her eyes. Every single visit had the same spiel, the same tired tirade. Noticing the bruises on his chin, she smirked. “Trouble?”

“This?” Offended, Wrex forcefully prodded the wound with a sharp claw. Despite his best attempt to keep his expression neutral, he couldn’t hide his wince at the touch. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s colourful,” she corrected, cocking her head. Honestly, the men in her race. Wrex might be the best of the them, but didn’t stop him from falling to the rest of their macho nonsense.

Balling his hands into fists, Wrex glared at her, then at the entranceway to her room. “If you kept your clan in order, it wouldn’t have happened. Every time I visit, it’s the same thing.”

“How hard it must be, to be so desired.” Eve scoffed, dismissing his compliant. Picking up a dossier from her cracked side table, she flipped through the pages. Well, at least this explained the noise she had heard earlier—it had sounded like a thresher maw had attacked. She had almost forgotten what Krogan in heat sounded like. “I thought you were happy to help with our population problems?”

Wrex snorted harshly. “Help, not solve entirely.” He looked at her now, the plates at his brow rising. “Unless you want a planet of my kids.”

“Definitely not, I can hardly handle one of you.” Eve grimaced, making a mental note to invite other males over. There was bound to be a few that could catch the interest of the others, at least enough that Wrex could make it to her quarters in one piece. It was hard enough to convince him to visit as it was.

“Two,” he corrected, his voice softening a pitch. His gaze lowered to her belly, his hand lifting slightly as though to touch it. She could understand the sentiment, there were times when she couldn’t believe it either. Viable eggs. Living young. A pipe dream that was coming true now.

She watched him, watched his smile gentle, his eyes crinkle. It was an expression she wasn’t used to seeing on him, a mixture of joy and pride. Of love. Of hope. Emotions her people hadn’t allowed themselves to have in centuries. Her lips curved and she knew her own expression mirrored his. “Two or more.”

“Or more,” he repeated, wonder filling his voice. She knew without asking he would claim his children when the time was right. Mordin, Shepard—names she could plan ahead, without fear of death, of loss. Perhaps Mordin could be as wise as his father and as brave as his namesake.

“It’s happening, isn’t it.” Wrex’s shoulder’s slumped, and he looked less like a leader and more like the worn soldier he was. The centuries had not been kind on him, the nihilistic nature of their species taking its toll. Scars littered his skin, battle wounds of a life spent wandering. “We’re…saved.”

Eve closed her eyes, remembering the Salarian who had sacrificed his life, the soft muttering of his voice as he mentioned life and death in the same breath. The high-pitched croon as he sang. “We still have to be careful. Mordin said it would take time.”

“He was always overly cautious.” Wrex laughed dismissively, still buoyant from joy. “Besides, might be for the best—the way the other clans are, we’d just get into another war.”

Eve grimaced, her lip curling up to reveal her teeth. “Not if I can help it.” Her claws dug into her skin. “We’ve come too far to fail because of some short-sighted idiot.”

It was the rare topic the pair could agreed on. Wrex laughed, a short bark. “I half want to them to try. Just to see you in action.”

She supposed she should be flattered. Men. Always the same no matter what species. Eve gestured at his jaw. “I’ll protect you while I’m at it.”

“Hey, I was mobbed!” he snarled, looking more like a petulant child than offended. There was something comical about the way he crossed his arms defensively, turning slightly to check if the other Krogan females would charge in.

Wrex hounded through the halls. It made an amusing image and she couldn’t stop the slow smile spreading across her face. “Surely the great Wrex can handle one or two of us? You travelled with Shepard, you must have seen worse.”

“Just barely.” He shuddered at the memory. Rolling up his sleeve, he revealed an ugly purple bruise on his forearm. Shaking it in her face, he glowered, “They’re worse than Grunt.”

“Don’t let him hear that. He’ll want to fight them,” Eve chuckled, thinking of the aggressive newcomer to the Urdnot clan. After defeating the thresher maw with Shepard, he had made quite the name for himself. Hardly a day went by without hearing him challenge one thing or another, and she wondered just how much of that was Shepard’s influence. Considering how Wrex acted around him, she doubted he’d temper Grunt at all. If anything, she was more afraid that Grunt would rub off on Wrex.

“He fights anything.” Wrex guffawed. “As long as it moves, he—” Suddenly, Wrex stopped talking. He stared at her, blinking a few times, before his expression lit up. A grin grew on his face, wide and eager, and he leaned forward. “I’ll bring him next time.”

“What—” She cut herself off, realizing just where this was headed. With a sigh, Eve admonished him, “Wrex, you know better.”

It was too late. Wrex smiled innocently, a look that did not fit with his scratched face. “It’ll be good for the kid. A chance to learn about our culture.”

If multiple Wrex were hard to think about, Eve didn’t want to picture the headache from a second Grunt.


End file.
